He'd take us fishing a lot, and I'd always wait for the weekends when we visited him in his small home.
He grew up in the Bronx, and he worked in the harbor as a physical worker on these odds and ends.

He met my grandmother Elsa in church one day, when he was twenty five.

He loved fishing, and we'd always hear the greatest stories about his catches (and misses..).
He died in his sleep.